


Mirror, Mirror

by Mysral



Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Banter, F/F, Gisette's POV, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, of the vicious variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysral/pseuds/Mysral
Summary: "If the gods themselves had conspired to create a person specifically to vex and antagonize her, they could not have done better than with Raqiyah."-- And yet here they stand, undressing in front of each other, preparing for yet another tryst, and they're fooling themselves if they think they're going to stop.Gisette/Corval!MC oneshot written for the 7kpp kink meme literal years ago.





	Mirror, Mirror

Princess Gisette does _not_ like Lady Raqiyah.

No, that terminology is too mild to describe her sentiments. “Hates”, however, is far too childish and simplistic. “Despises”, perhaps, or “disdains”? She isn't quite sure. The Lady Avalie would know, of course, but Gisette hasn't the slightest intention of consulting with her. Certainly not on this matter.

Whatever the precise term for it, the fact remains that there is no love lost between them. If the gods themselves had conspired to create a person specifically to vex and antagonize her, they could not have done better than with Raqiyah.

The Corvali lady is attractive, wealthy and ambitious, but most of all, skilled. Political proficiency is only to be expected from a woman who grew up in Corval's infamous Inner Court, but Raqiyah plays the Game with an almost natural grace, well enough to be considered a true rival. Unlike the more discerning of politicians, however, she wields her power almost indiscriminately, associating with anyone and everyone, from the chaperones and most important delegates to people like that Skaltic savage and that mud-spattered, air-headed excuse for an earl. And then there's the support she voiced – politely, but blatantly – for the uppity Revairan _peasantry_ at their very first meeting; moments after having gained Gisette's interest and respect, no less. Even now, Gisette does not know if that had been a jab at her family or the woman's actual opinion. She suspects both. Whatever the case, Raqiyah and her  coolly flippant disregard for station offend Gisette's offend and aggravate Gisette to no end, and the young lady's subtle barbs since then have made it abundantly clear the antipathy is mutual. All in all, the Lady Raqiyah is what should be considered a persistent thorn in her side, to be dealt with and _removed_ as soon as possible.

 _Should_.

Instead, here they stand in Gisette's chambers in Vail Castle, alone and disrobing in front of each other. It is not the first time. No matter how Gisette's mind protests, she knows it will not be the last.

Wearing the look of frosty disinterest perfected by eighteen years of practice, the princess lets her gaze wander over her... _companion_. Raqiyah is quite pleasing to the eye, she'll give her that. The Corvali stands taller than Gisette, with more pronounced curves to her olive-skinned body. Her dark, lustrous hair frames an elegant, noble face. Her deep brown eyes, always so observant and clever, are visibly dark tonight. She casts away her final piece of brightly colored clothing with calculated indifference, and Gisette feels tight, yearning heat uncoiling in her own underbelly. Yet again, her body betrays her.

Raqiyah cocks her head and gives Gisette a look of innocent concern, apparently having noticed the falter in her mask. “Is something the matter, your Highness?” she asks with mild curiosity, as if they were having a conversation over tea, not standing naked before each other and preparing to...

“Nothing in particular,” Gisette says in her most icy of tones, fixing the other woman with a look meant to say, 'but _you_ in general.' She doesn't manage as well as she should; the insistent _want, want, want_ in the back of her mind makes it aggravatingly hard to focus.

“That is a relief, then,” Raqiyah answers. In brazen contrast to her little act, she reaches out and just barely caresses Gisette's breast with her fingertips. “It would be such a pity if we had to cut our time together,” - she gently flicks the erect nipple, sending a tingling spark coursing through Gisette, then swiftly withdraws - “ _short_.” Beside her burst of anger at the sheer indignity of what just happened, Gisette does feel a measure of satisfaction. Raqiyah might be toying around, but her hunger is visible beneath it. Clearly, the princess is not the only one fascinated by the other's body.

Gisette smiles thinly. “You say 'we' as if cutting this short would be a joint decision between us,” she replies. _I could have you out in the hallway in an instant if I were so inclined_. She ignores the little voice that demands, _Then why don't you?_

“Duly acknowledged.” Raqiyah dips her head demurely, then slowly brushes past and, uninvited, seats herself on Gisette's bed. “It is only right that personal sovereignty be retained, in matters between peers such as these.”

Gisette raises an eyebrow. “Peers?” she repeats, almost amused at the audacity. Was she really daring to equate herself to the Princess of Revaire?

“Well, peers at this Summit, would you not say?”

“I fear you are mistaken, my good Lady,” Gisette replies coolly. “We are not peers. Neither off this isle nor on it.”

“Truly?” Raqiyah asks. Her tone is mild, conversational, but there is the barest hint of steel in her voice. _Good_.

“Truly,” Gisette affirms, smiling her subtly superior smile. “You owe your presence here to the favor of the Imperial Court. You owe your status at court to your mother's favor with the Empress. Ultimately, you have your power on loan. Whereas I...” - she delicately indicates herself with one hand - “I am a princess. I will be a queen. Power is mine to lend, not borrow.”

Raqiyah leans back and raises her annoyingly perfect eyebrows in an expression of mock surprise. “You hide it well, your Highness,” she says in an all-too-innocent tone, belied by the sudden, wicked curve of her lips. “All I see is a naked girl begging fo-”

_Crack!_

The flash of white rage subsides almost as swiftly as it came. Raqiyah lies half-fallen in open-mouthed shock, a hand at her cheek. With something very much like surprise, Gisette realizes that she has just slapped her. Her hand, delicate-boned and soft-skinned as befits those of royalty, stings sharply from the blow. She feels another surge of anger welling up, this time at herself, for letting herself lose control like that to this _bitch_. But the _other_ Gisette drinks in the burning tingle, the angry red mark on Raqiyah's skin and the sheer dark _satsifaction_ of physically striking the object of her rage. Jarrod's crude methods might have some merit, after all.

Raqiyah, meanwhile, slowly rises, her expression of shock morphing into an almost exhilarated smile. “I stand corrected,” she says, still rubbing her cheek.  “That was a most... _royal_ display of behavior, your Highness.”

With a little effort, the princess ignores the bait, deigning instead to get on the bed herself. _Her_ bed. “Enough of this,” she declares, treating Raqiyah to her most imperious of looks. “This discussion is fascinating, but it can be saved for another time.” She marginally spreads her legs. “Perhaps you would care to do what you actually came here for.”

This time, the desire beneath the Corvali's smile is barely hidden at all. “But of course, your Highness.”

Raqiyah closes in with almost startling speed. Almost before she knows it, there is a warm hand enveloping her mound and a hot, hungry mouth on her breast. Gisette tosses her head back and hisses as that glorious haze of power and pleasure suffuses her. _Yes. Serve me. Worship me. Do as you should. Give what I deserve._

Gisette's hands clench and unclench over and over as Raqiyah fulfills her role. The world outside this room, outside this bed, shrinks to nothingness. Her body has a will of its own now, her hips and back pushing her into that delicious pressure of their own accord. One finger slips inside her, then another. She feels a certain pique at how easily they enter, how vulgarly wet this woman has made her. It is almost like acknowledging a defeat. But she will not be conquered this easily.

She reopens her eyes. “I must say you disappoint me, Lady Raqiyah,” she says, her words only slightly hampered by her shortness of breath. Raqiyah looks up from her ministrations but does not answer. Gisette continues, “You were raised in the great court of corruption, and you didn't so much as learn how to pleas _uunnnh!_ ” The conclusion of her jab is lost as Raqiyah curls her fingers just _so_.

“The same could be said for Your Highness's skills of elocution,” the Corvali retorts coolly, smirking.

Gisette bares her teeth, struggling to think through the haze of lust and hate. “Apparently,” she finally manages, “seeing as you seem to think I told you to stop.”

Raqiyah's answer is another devastating twist, and Gisette arches involuntarily, barely keeping herself from another outright moan. She throws her arms around the other woman's back and digs her painted nails hard into smooth skin, and is rewarded with a ragged groan of pain and pleasure.

“At court...” Raqiyah half-gasps, “...there are tigers. Tigers and other... big cats. They're all vicious claws and majesty but,” - a breathless giggle - “stroke them right and they just-”

Gisette silences her tormenter the only way she can. Their mouths crash together with an almost bruising force, and she tastes wine and sweets and _her_. She can hardly breathe. She can hardly think. She is beyond caring. Her thigh brushes up against warmth and wetness, and almost instinctively she pushes _up_. Vicious satisfaction courses through her as Raqiyah keens into her mouth.

There is nothing gentle to what they do. There is no affection between them. They are not lovers. They are even beyond rivals now. They are entangled, entwined, repulsed but inseparable. Their bodies glow with furnace heat, slick with sweat and deeper things. Language is gone. Thought is gone. Lust and hatred meld as one. There is only passion. There is only her.

And when the dam bursts in an all-consuming surge of white, there is nothing at all.

They lie side by side on the sweaty, tousled sheets as they recover. The occasional aftershock ripples through Gisette's body, making her quiver and twitch. The air is suffused with their scent.

Eventually, she gathers her breath and thoughts enough to form coherent words. “Get out.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Raqiyah rises from the bed and complies without rejoinder. It is only after she has clothed herself in those bright silks of hers and has made her way to the door that she turns to the princess once more.

 “I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

She will. Of that, there is no doubt.

 

 


End file.
